


Darkness Rises

by shewhospeakswiththunder



Series: Chiasmus [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, D'Qar, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Dark!Rey, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Visions, Interrogation, Podracer!Ben Solo, Podracing, Self-Discovery, Tatooine, canon-divergent, in-universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-07-13 22:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16027253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhospeakswiththunder/pseuds/shewhospeakswiththunder
Summary: Scourge of the galaxy, Kira Ren, is tasked by the First Order to eliminate the last of the Jedi. When she captures hotshot podracer Ben Solo to extract Luke Skywalker’s location from him, things do not go according to plan. Or, “The Force Knows Best and Will Have its Way.”





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins. Enjoy the story!

The gaunt face of a monster hung menacingly in the air. A dark figure knelt in deferential obedience directly below, projecting a long shadow across the polished black marble floor.

“Kira Ren, I have a mission for you.” The giant holographic image flickered and fizzed, the connection tenuous. “Your power and your loyalty to the First Order’s noble cause make you the only one suitable for this task.”

The silent form on the floor remained motionless.

“It has come to my attention that a man by the name of Ben Solo has the potential to pose a serious threat to our glorious regime. He, and he alone, knows the location of the notorious _Luke Skywalker_.” He spat the name in disgust. “Solo must be dealt with immediately. Your mission is to locate him and extract this information, but if this proves impossible, to kill him.”

“I’ll do whatever you ask, Supreme Leader.” The apprentice’s heavily modulated voice rumbled from her glossy black helmet, barely recognizable as human.

“Good. Together, you and I will complete this task and usher in a new era to the galaxy, an Era of Order and Peace, free from the foul _stain_ of the Jedi.” Supreme Leader Snoke relished the thought for a moment. “Go,” he ordered, the command echoing between the obsidian walls even after his image winked out.

A single sliver of pale moonlight sliced through the darkness of the room, illuminating the still kneeling Kira Ren, her featureless helmet glinting as she rose and strode purposefully out of the chamber, fists clenched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta, @colliderofhadron. Comments are always welcome-- I'd love to hear from you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cute meet. Or perhaps not so cute. Either way, hope you enjoy.

Forty engines roared to life in the scorching midday desert heat. Flags of every cut and color marched along the starting line, spectators screaming themselves hoarse in feverish anticipation, the cacophony ricocheting around the enormous stadium.

The Boonta Eve Classic was about to begin.

Ben Solo jammed his sand-blasted gray helmet over his ears and pulled down the goggles, spot checking his dashboard and revving the twin engines of his podracer. Safety checklist completed, he leaned back in his seat, gripping the throttle levers.

Podracing was a sport of life and death, offering great risk and even greater reward. A mere three laps away from that moment, Ben might either find himself gasping his last breath or reveling in the possession of a freighter-load of money. He was ready.

The countdown began, huge lights broadcasting the reversing numbers to racers and spectators alike. The starter horn blasted through the stadium, drowning out the excited cheers and thunderous revving engines as Ben slammed the throttles and rocketed away, tailed by a furious maelstrom of billowing sand. The racers were off, skimming along sun-bleached sand at reckless speeds, oblivious to the stark beauty of the landscape streaking past. Ben was already third from the front, brand-new thrusters giving his vehicle satisfying torque as he maneuvered around his opponents.

The course wound its way along deep, shadowed crevices and through ancient caves and marching stalagmites, out onto a vast plateau of scorched earth, comprising the last leg of the giant loop.

As they zoomed under the archway marker for the beginning of lap two, Ben passed pockets of spectators, nothing but blurred swathes of color as he shot past them.  He could only imagine their rousing screams of encouragement, deafened to most sound by his helmet, even if he could have heard them above the bone-rattling rumble of his engines.

The second lap came and went without upset, but Ben refocused, knowing full well that the challenge of the third and final lap would reveal contestants’ true colors.

The Boonta Eve Classic was especially legendary for drawing in the world’s worst cheaters and all-around amoral slimeballs. Ben never failed to remember this fact, mainly because he was one of them.

Most racers in this event were veterans, and therefore highly practiced in the art of skulduggery, but Ben had his own advantage.

Ben’s seventeenth birthday had found him alone, living in his small ship temporarily docked on the outskirts of Mos Espa, surviving by taking up any odd job available. On a reckless whim, he had splurged on a junker podracer, fixed it up, and entered the only race for which he could afford the entrance fee. It hadn’t been long before he made a name for himself, his lightning reflexes producing wins that quickly landed him in elite social circles, rubbing shoulders with wealthy investors and potential patrons - the most notable of which was none other than Rotta the Hutt himself, son of the infamous Jabba.

‘Fixing a race’ wasn’t a term Ben liked to use when referring to the insane amounts of money he earned for manually altering the odds, but he supposed it was the most accurate.

Following the explicit instructions given to him by one of Rotta’s unsavory underlings, Ben had kept his position in first place for the majority of the race. He was the reigning champion and favorite to win, but he had been told in no uncertain terms that he was to win second place this year. At the time, it had grated his pride, but the money involved more than adequately compensated a bruised ego. There was always next year, anyway.

So, with practiced precision, Ben opened himself up to the living Force surrounding him, his invisible ally, and split his attention between the rough terrain and vicious contours of the racecourse, and the calculating minds of his opponents.

It was easy enough to persuade one competitor to go easy on the acceleration and another to thrust it forward at full speed, especially when they were so focused on their own duplicitous plans. And so it was that Ben took second place by a hair to a young Defel, a foul-mouthed upstart whose wolfish maw grinned joyfully as his furry hands pumped the air, confetti streaming around him in flurries.

Despite the promise of wads of cash, Ben still prickled with jealousy. The glory and hero worship had rightfully been his, and he slunk dejectedly out of the stadium toward the usual seedy bar to collect his payment.

As always, the bartender hastily waved him into the room at the back of the squalid establishment as soon as Ben stepped through the door, so it took Ben by surprise when he was greeted by none other than Rotta the Hutt, flanked by the cronies he normally had to deal with.

“Solo,” Rotta drawled, continuing in Huttese. “Congratulations are in order.”

Ben shrugged.

“Now, now, we can’t always be a winner, can we? There’s more than just your reputation at stake here,” Rotta said.

“I know,” Ben said.

“And here is your well-deserved reward.” Rotta gestured with a fat, slimy hand toward a leather case packed with the local currency. Ben took a step forward to claim it, but Rotta stopped him. “I have to ask, what is it you do with all of your winnings? You don’t go to the clubs like my other racers do.”

Ben stilled. There used to be a plan, a dream of taking all his winnings, buying a luxury ship, and leaving this godsforsaken hellhole behind, but lately his dreams had lost their former appeal and lustre. Nothing gave him much pleasure anymore, with the sole exception of racing. The only time Ben felt truly alive these days was when he raced, but even that satisfaction soured his stomach once the adrenaline had cleared his system and his conscience nagged. He had money, oodles of it, but still found himself wasting entire days away in his bed, without the energy to even get up for food. Not that he had much of an appetite nowadays, anyway.

Rotta narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Ben, who quickly realized that he had been silent for too long.

“You are turning out to be a much better investment than your sire, Solo. My trust in you has been fruitful for the both of us so far. Let’s ensure you don’t  _ lose _ that trust.”

Looking the giant slug in the eye, Ben nodded, all too aware of the consequences, should that situation ever come to pass - there was no better way to guarantee a well-aimed laser blast to the gut.

Stepping out into the fading evening sunlight, Ben felt the urgent need to abandon sobriety for the day. He had money and the entire night ahead of him. He would make the most of it.

***

A pickaxe blow to the skull dragged Ben into consciousness the next morning - at least, that’s what it had felt like. His mouth chewed the acrid taste of stale alcohol and his stomach rolled nauseatingly inside of him, hinting at the possibility of losing its contents. A bolt of memory shot through him and he groaned, reliving fuzzy recollections of the previous night.

It had all started at his favorite bar, lively and packed with travelers, in town to see the race. The patrons had recognized him as one of the racers, and happily bought him drink after drink. By the end of the night Ben was blissfully drunk, and stayed until the early hours of the morning chatting with his long-time crush, a beautiful and flirtatious Twi’lek bartender named Sybith.

The bar slowly emptied, and Sybith was cleaning the bar top with a wet rag, smiling at him as they chatted. Her pale green skin had looked lovely and smooth in the low lighting, her startling orange eyes as entrancing as always. Ben’s hands were sweating unbecomingly, and he wiped them surreptitiously on his pants.

“It’s unusual that a big league podracer like yourself comes this far out of the city center,” she remarked.

“I like this bar,” Ben said.

“Why?” she asked, laughing.

“Uh…” Ben cast about for something to say, something that wasn’t as unutterably stupid as ‘because you work here’. He cleared his throat and settled on, “Ambience,” gesturing vaguely around him.

She snorted. “Right. Well, I’m going to go ahead and close everything up here, so…”

“Ah. Yes. Okay, well, see you around,” Ben mumbled, standing up to leave, but as he did so his hand slipped on the slick bar and the swivel chair beneath him swung him onto the floor. He recovered himself with as much grace as a drunk man could in the face of such embarrassment, which was to say none at all.

“You okay, hotshot?” she leaned over the bar, amused and concerned in equal measure.

“Never better,” Ben slurred, hastily exiting before he had another chance to humiliate himself in front of her.

He stumbled home to his ship, his thoughts exclusively focused on the stiff bed he couldn’t wait to throw himself into, when he had felt something… odd.

As Ben’s memory pieced itself together, he felt his heart rate skyrocket.

A member of a rival gang, known formally as the Red Key Company, had accosted him, stirring trouble. Things had gotten out of hand.

Ben had seen the assailant reach for his blaster.

But Ben had grabbed his concealed lightsaber first.

And Ben had killed him.

A cold sweat broke out on his brow as Ben recalled leaving the body there for anyone to see, too drunk to flee the city, simply falling asleep instead...

There was only one course of action offering the highest possible chance at living to see next week, and that was getting the hell off this planet.

To his intense chagrin, he had let his food supplies dwindle down to almost nothing, so he had to risk going out to restock before he could leave. Scrambling into action, Ben threw a hooded cloak on, as well as a cloth face-covering and goggles. It wouldn’t give much protection, but it was something.

He scooted around town as inconspicuously as he could, gathering only the bare essentials for escape, but it still took him several hours, having been held up by two lengthy sandstorms that forced him to take shelter. By the time he headed back to his ship, the long, cool shadows of early evening were already blanketing the port.

Ripping off the goggles and cloak with immense relief, both of which had had him sweating bullets in the heat of Tatooine’s twin suns, he almost failed to notice the steaming pile of cauterized flesh in his cockpit, but the smell halted him.

Several things happened at once. Ben’s arms and legs froze, as though stuck in duracrete, the provisions clattering noisily to the floor in his surprise. Then, he felt it - a presence. Surprised that he had not been able to sense it before, it now announced itself with a dark strength.

A humanoid figure, draped in black, solidified out of the shadows, face hidden by a black mask that gleamed in the oily fluorescent light beaming down the short hallway. The figure was shorter in height than Ben, slighter, but he noticed how the mask moved up and down, scanning the length of his body. He felt its… approval?

It raised a gloved hand toward him, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tidbits for those interested:
> 
> [Boonta Eve Classic](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Boonta_Eve_Classic)  
> [Rotta the Hutt](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Rotta)  
> [Defel](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Defel)  
> [Twi'lek](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Twi'lek)  
> [Red Key Company](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Red_Key_Raiders)
> 
> Feel free to comment, it's always nice to hear back from readers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Force has plans, and neither of them see it coming.

Kira Ren paced the cockpit of her sleek Upsilon-class shuttle, its black interior and upholstery matching her dark, uneasy anticipation.

Her prisoner was taking an age to awaken and she was not inclined to be patient, especially when there were hours of odious interrogations yet to perform. She preferred fights of a more physical nature, relishing any opportunity to exercise her considerable lightsaber skills. The tougher the opponent, the better—Kira never lost, and she loved a challenge.

There wasn’t much choice in this particular matter, however. What the Supreme Leader commanded, she did.  Without question.

Through the Force, she felt Ben Solo stirring, his emerging consciousness now sluggishly rising from the nebulous swirls of sleep. She practically ran down the hallway to the sleeping quarters, where she had left him bound and confined, and eagerly punched the button to open the door.

With no preamble, she barged into the chamber and was once again struck by his appearance, her eyes drinking in his tall, but broad-shouldered, frame, his dark hair and elegant features.  Unable to strap him to an interrogation chair - this particular ship did not have one - Kira had had to make do with thick durasteel handcuffs, binding his wrists and ankles instead. As she looked down upon the crumpled form lying on the bare mattress at her feet, she realized there was still something about him that fascinated her.

Pushing these thoughts aside quickly, Kira raised her hand and blasted straight into his mind, not even allowing him enough time to fully open his eyes. Disorientation often expedited the process, and Kira was anxious to finish her task.

Memories and emotions flashed past as she remorselessly raked her way through them, purposefully searching for anything relating to Skywalker. It surprised her just how far back she had to delve, plundering more than ten years’ worth of memories before finally reaching the last time he even saw his mentor’s face…

Learning as she went, she realized that Skywalker had filled several roles in her subject’s life: uncle, teacher of the ways of the Jedi, father-figure, even, until Ben Solo had run away, after he had discovered—

But then she felt a marked  _ slowing _ . He was beginning to fight back, to drag up barriers to her onslaught. As the seconds ticked by, Kira felt the strength of his effort. No longer able to tear effortlessly through his pliant mind, she found herself struggling, her momentum lagging as he pushed against her.

“Yield… to me…” Kira grunted as their minds began to grapple, her unrelenting force against his immovable will building a strange quasi-kinetic energy. She marveled at his strength, unused to meeting such impressive resistance.

The energy between them grew, rapidly becoming an unprecedented, unwieldy pressure that troubled Kira with unsettling consternation. What would happen when this pressure finally exploded?

Just as that thought entered her mind, she felt herself slip, their equal opposing forces sliding past one another, as much pushed as inexorably pulled out and away from each other, like repelling magnets flying to their diametric poles.

Kira’s panic rose to her throat as she felt herself leave reality and crash into something else entirely. She swiveled her head and found herself in a darkened hut, in front of a teenage boy sitting cross-legged on a woven bed mat. A steady downpour of rain splattered boisterously on stone and grass outside, the pervading dampness in the air cutting through her clothes. A small fire crackled, illuminating the silent tears trailing down Ben Solo’s face, easily ten years younger than the version she was supposed to be interrogating. He still had the gangly body of an adolescent, his shoulders not yet filled out, but it wasn’t the tangible details of the environment that caught her attention. It was the dark rippling of young Ben’s inner turmoil, his turbulent emotions hemorrhaging outwards, staining the air with anguished fury. His anger and confusion, his sense of betrayal… she felt it all, as though it was her own.  It roiled deeply within her, and she viscerally felt the hurt and fear that fed it.

“ _ Why didn’t they tell me _ ?” reverberated inside her skull, louder than her own thoughts, as though she was surrounded by the contours of an enormous bell, its lingering peals drowning everything else out. The image of Darth Vader swam before her eyes, his infamous dark mask glinting dangerously.

His pain was too much. It was going to split her in half, and just when she believed his rage would tear itself out of her chest and leave her gaping and bleeding, everything ended.

Firmly back in reality and dizzyingly disoriented, she recoiled from Ben Solo in every way, her chest heaving with residual panic. The man in front of her was crying into the mattress, and she was relieved that her mask hid her own streaming tears.

“Stop!” he cried. “You have to stop! I don’t have whatever it is you’re looking for.”

“ _ LIAR! _ ” she roared back.

“Please, I can’t do that again.”

Kira realized that she couldn’t either, so she stomped out, furious and terrified in equal measure at the enormity of what had just happened.

***

For what must have been an hour after his captor had fled the room, Ben heard and felt her feet thumping on the durasteel grating outside the door. Her rage was a searing fire with a white-hot center of fear, and he felt it with a clarity that he had never experienced before.

He knew that her fright mirrored his, and it took a long time for him to calm down enough to take stock of his situation.

Firstly, her name was Kira. He had gleaned that from his vision.

Secondly, he and Kira seemed to have been propelled into some sort of Force vision, but Ben’s recollection of his days of learning about Force visions as a Jedi pupil was incomplete and, by now, half-forgotten. He couldn’t be sure what  _ she _ had seen, but his survival instinct had forcibly pushed what he had just experienced to the back of his thoughts, protectively prohibiting him from reliving it. It would have to be dealt with later.

He decided to turn his attention to the matter at hand. If he could read her like an unlocked datapad, she could certainly figure out what was going through his mind just as clearly, so escape for the time being was out of the question. There was currently no real course of action for Ben to take other than to wait, so he fell into meditation.

His skill in meditating was rusty, but habit took over as he centered himself and opened to the Living Force. Time passed a little differently whenever he entered this space, a fact he remembered from his days of training with his uncle, and what seemed like minutes easily passed into an hour as he connected with the boundless essence of being, knowing, time and space. From this place of deep awareness, Ben felt Kira’s Force signature alter as her fear dimmed to apprehension of a different sort. She was trying to sleep.

Ben knew too well how daunting the idea of sleep could be, frustratingly elusive and offering only nightmares. But there were times when the body had no other option other than to lay down and submit.

By some miracle, Kira had eventually fallen asleep, the bright beacon of her clamoring thoughts slipping into quieter eddies of shadowy images. Just as his attention turned to making an escape, ethereal tendrils touched him – hazy impressions from an external source opened up, wrapping around him, engulfing him. Evasion wasn’t an option, so he succumbed to what he could only speculate to be Kira’s dream, bleeding into his reality.

Still clad in black, but now unencumbered by her helmet, his captor stood in front of him, her feet firmly planted on a pale tarmac that extended as far as the eye could see. The evening sky brazenly flaunted its saturated purples and magentas, a strong wind whipping Kira’s cape into vigorous waves, mesmerizing wisps of loose hair flailing frantically around the edges of her hairline. Ben could not see her face, only three brown buns cascading sleekly down the center of her head.

The cold knife of Kira’s fear twisted in Ben’s belly as a dark silhouette appeared in front of them, removing its hood to reveal a distorted, alien version of his Uncle Luke.

Their sabers ignited simultaneously, hers the bright red of a bled kyber crystal, and Luke’s strangely colorless. Ben supposed she didn’t know that Luke’s blade had been green but, even as the thought flitted through his mind, dream-Luke’s saber flashed bright green-yellow.

Shock hit Ben like blaster bolt to his gut as he made several realizations. First, that he had only been captured in the first place to help this Kira person find Luke. Second, the apparently open flux of  _ whatever _ it was that Ben and Kira now shared left him in an extremely precarious position.

Even as Kira and Luke charged at one another, Ben threw all his mental fortitude into wrenching himself out of the dreamscape, desperately hoping that the sleeping Kira would be too preoccupied with the impending fight to notice his withdrawal.

Firmly back in grim reality, Ben did his best to ignore his mounting anxiety, and focused on channeling the Force into the uncomfortable metal bonds that restrained him. They burst open, his emotions giving his exertions impetus, and he vigilantly scanned the surrounding area for guards or other threats, surprised to find none. Kira Ren had come alone.

It didn’t take Ben long to find the flashy speeder parked in the belly of the ship where he had been held captive, which appeared to be an upscale imperial shuttle, and he was soon jetting across the sand through the dark and biting cold of the desert night. The digital tracking system on the dashboard made it easy to find home.

When he finally reached the outskirts of Mos Espa a full hour later, he sped right to the shipyard. Dashing up the ramp of his small freighter, Ben nearly vomited as the stench of decomposing flesh hit him, the festering putrefaction overwhelming and paralyzing him. In light of the circumstances, he had forgotten that his life was in danger on more than one front and, as crazy as it was, Ben felt a small amount of gratitude towards his dark kidnapper for efficiently disposing of his assassins. Desperately trying to contain his gagging, he used the Force to lift the rotting heap and throw it out onto the dusty ground outside.

That horrid task completed, Ben then ripped up a metal floorboard under his bed, which hid the only possession for which he had any real concern. He heaved a sigh of relief as he discovered that his grandfather’s lightsaber was still there.

He had only just sat down at the control panel when a disturbance surged from the east, raising goosebumps on his arms. He knew at once that Kira had awakened and it concerned him that he could  _ still _ feel her from so far away. As her emotions reached a crescendo, he slammed down on the lever, simultaneously activating both lift off and the walls of his mind.

Ben was relieved to be swallowed by the vast darkness of the night sky, its ink-dark velvet wrapping around his ship like a blanket. He shakily punched in the coordinates of his destination, anxious to leave Tatooine behind, and engaged the lever for lightspeed.

He needed to find the Resistance… and his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crazy stuff, huh? As always, many thanks to my Beta, @colliderofhadron, for helping me make the craziness intelligible.
> 
> Honest feedback request: Any thoughts on the weird meta-physical bits? Your thoughts are always welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few familiar faces are introduced to the story and conflict of all types abounds.

Poe Dameron, the best pilot in the Resistance, had finally returned from his quiet mission to Jakku, smuggling a computer chip that held the life or death of a man in its binary code. And General Leia Organa had no idea what to do with it.

When Poe’s little BB8 unit had popped open the compartment, holding the missing piece to the map to her estranged brother, Leia’s heart had dropped a beat. Luke had disappeared not long after the Vader scandal had exploded into common knowledge, the truth of their blood relationship seriously jeopardizing her entire political career, resulting in the blowout with Ben that had pushed him over the edge. In the space of weeks, Leia had lost her twin brother, her teenage son, and her reputation.

After Ben had run away, correspondence with him had been frustratingly scant but, from Luke, there had been nothing. Leia knew by a familiar force of intuition that he was alive, but it was only recently that the instinct had hinted: _Alive, but not safe_.

And so, the question now was whether to leave Luke be, or to bring him back? Leia rubbed her temples, willing away the beginnings of yet another stress migraine.

A metallic knock at the door to her small private office startled her from the minefield of her thoughts. Leia responded with a tired, “Come in,” and C3PO, her constant companion of a protocol droid, stepped in.

“General Leia, I have wonderful news! I’ve just received report that none other than Ben Solo is requesting permission to land in the bay area.” Leia’s heart fell into her stomach for the second time that day.

Over the years, and as carefully as she could, Leia had hidden highly encrypted codes within her holo messages to Ben, indicating her current location. The secrecy had become increasingly necessary as time went on, particularly as the Resistance and its adversaries had grown in numbers, but he had never come to her before now. In a rush of self-congratulation, she thanked herself for her persistence.

Ben must be in a load of trouble to come now, but only time would tell just what kind.

With a bittersweet tangle of joy and foreboding tightening her throat, she told 3PO to bring her son to her, and the moments stretched impossibly before she saw him stride into the room. Even though she had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, tears sprang to her eyes and, without a second’s hesitation, she pulled him to her in to a mother’s embrace.

Taller now than Han ever was, he bashfully wrapped his arms around her. His emotions were turbulent, just like hers, but it was with profound relief that she breathed him in. He smelled of exhaust and sweat, and her concern rushed back.

Pushing him to arms’ length, she asked, “Are you in danger?”

His reticent silence spoke volumes.

“What happened?”

The story he spun about the mysterious woman in black and her desperate search for Luke racketed her alarm up several degrees. Her gut feelings confirmed, she was once again able to take some solace in her success at having retrieved the map piece before the First Order learned of it. For she knew who pursued and interrogated him: the ruthless and cunning right hand to Snoke, Kira Ren.

Leia was well-aware that she owed Ben an explanation, and informed him of the recent events and the map that was now in her possession.

“But Ben,” she warned, “this information _does not_ leave this room. And frankly, it isn’t even our priority.”

“You’re not even going to tell him...” Ben said, incredulous.

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do. He left everything behind for a reason. Do I want to be responsible for dragging him back into this mess?” Leia reasoned.

“Someone is trying to _kill him_.”

“The First Order doesn’t know where he is, otherwise they wouldn’t have bothered with you. For now, he’s safe,” Leia said, doing her best to remain practical.

“Nothing’s changed.” Ben’s jaw clenched. “Everything for the greater good.”

It was an old argument, and Leia was stunned that even though she had her son back for the first time in a decade, the worn-out cycle of disagreement had already begun. She had played her part in driving him away in the first place, a fact she could only now acknowledge with a healthy dose of hindsight, and had regretted it every day since he had left Luke’s tutelage. She was determined not to lose him again so soon.

“Ben,” she reached out and rubbed his arm. “I’m so glad you’re here. Why don’t we talk about this later? Your father and I—”

“He’s here?” Ben interrupted, his face stony.

“Yes, and Chewie. This is an opportunity for us to…” she searched for the words, every fiber of her wanting only to keep him, and not push him away. “...get _reacquainted_. Please stay. Give us a chance.”

Ben was speechless for a second, but whatever his reply might have been was cut short by a breathless Han Solo barging into the private room, with Chewbacca close behind, yelling vociferously in Shyriiwook.

“Leia, did you—?” Han stopped short on seeing his son. “Ben!”

Ben gave him a noncommittal nod. Chewbacca shoved past the frozen Han and grabbed Ben in a suffocating, furry hug, still growling loudly. For the first time in far too long, Leia saw her son crack a grin.

“Okay, okay,” Ben laughed, squirming out of the rib-crushing hug, voice muffled through the layers of brown fur. “I missed you, too.”

Chewie allowed this, then yelled at Han, who waved him off.

“Hey, kid. I heard you were here.”

Making every effort not to meet Han’s eyes, Ben replied with a terse, “Yeah.”

“Well, I… will let you finish catching up with your mother,” Han continued awkwardly. “See you around. Come on, Chewie, we’ve got work to do.”

Chewie hugged Ben once more before following Han out the door, continuing to grumble.

“Ah, what do _you_ know, you big hairy sentimental,” Han growled, but Leia heard the smile in his voice.

Turning to her son, she said, “Let me show you around.”

***

Solitude suited Kira Ren well, she wore it like armor, as she had always been instructed. It was thus, in familiar silence and inconspicuousness, that she arrived at Starkiller Base.

In an attempt to quiet the dread pooling in the pit of her stomach, Kira slipped into her personal quarters and set about performing her homecoming tradition: adding a new sample to her collection of dried and pressed flora. She hoped the activity would quell the soaring unease building as she anticipated the inevitable summons to the Supreme Leader’s audience.

It was her habit to retrieve a specimen of plant or flower from each new world she had ever stepped foot on, and although Tatooine’s arid climate had offered her a challenge, she had at last discovered a parched weed-like funnel flower struggling in the shade of a squat adobe building. Not much about the desert planet suggested sustainability for any sort of plant life, but if there was one thing Kira had learned since beginning her collection, it was that life always found a way, even in the most unlikely of places.

The weed she had picked wasn’t pretty by any standard, especially after pressing, but it was added to the rest of the samples all the same. Carefully, Kira opened her old tome, its leather binding cracking in age. She took the time to page through, remembering each plant and the corresponding search for it fondly. Reaching the first empty page, Kira gently laid the new addition between the thick cellophane sheet and age-discolored paper beneath, a tiny flame of pride warming her.

The book was easily the most expensive item she possessed, paper itself an extreme rarity, and the antique tome probably approaching priceless. The rest of her limited personal items were of far less value, her quarters sparsely furnished with only military-issued necessities: a stiff bed, rough gray linens, a small plastic table. While Kira was important enough to be assigned her own private residence with a ‘fresher, a luxury most on board did not receive, it, too, was small and uninvitingly spartan.

A flash of orange in her periphery tore her attention away from the prized keepsakes. None other than Millicent, Admiral Hux’s prized cat, sidled up to Kira, stretching up her legs with furry forepaws extended in a plea for attention. Kira flinched and backed away, irritably wondering exactly how the cat had wormed its way into her quarters. There was only one point of ingress, and Kira had certainly not willingly let her slip in.

Millicent was notorious for escaping Hux’s quarters and for making a nuisance of herself in general. Hers was the habit of knocking over full cups of caf onto the floor, leaping onto unsuspecting laps, and leaving marmalade fur everywhere as proof of her conquests.

A harsh knock at the door jolted her from idly pondering just how to herd the cat out without touching it. Having removed her helmet when she’d entered her room, she now jammed it back back over her head as she stomped over to answer the door and it swooshed open to reveal a stormtrooper, his nervous energy spiking around him.

He cleared his throat, further unnerved by her silence as she glared at him impassively. “Supreme Leader Snoke has requested your presence immediately.”

Something peculiar struck her as she studied him. Unlike the usual no-nonsense obedience to which all the other troopers adhered, in this one she sensed… indecision.

“What’s your designation?” she demanded, her voice harsh and grating through the glossy black helmet’s voice modulator.

“FN-2187. Ma’am.”

“You should make up your mind about whatever it is that’s bothering you, FN-2187. Captain Phasma doesn’t approve of independent thought.” Kira pushed her way past him. “And _no one_ enjoys reconditioning.”

Mouse droids skittered away as she stalked the long, stark hallways toward the Supreme Leader’s reception chamber, known to be dangerous even among utility droid circles. Kira hadn’t lost control of her temper in several months, but her fiery reputation for reducing inanimate objects to sparking scraps of metal had circulated widely.

Every bit as cold and impersonal as the rest of the base, the obsidian walls of the reception chamber offered no warmth as they dully reflected the hallway’s harsh fluorescent lights. Whatever ambient activity existed outside was swallowed by the vastness of the room, its empty chill dampening all sound but the rushed beating of Kira’s own heart.

That black pit in her belly now grew, nauseating her as she kneeled before Snoke’s holographic image as it flickered to life. Fury was plain on his scarred and disfigured face, but there was no escaping it. She could only endure.

She decided to speak first.

“Supreme Leader—”

“The mighty Kira Ren,” he interjected, his voice low. “Bested by a desert rat. How can you explain this embarrassing failure?”

“Supreme Leader,” Kira tried again. “Ben Solo is strong with the Force. I underestimated him once, but it won’t happen again.”

“No, I should think not,” he said shortly.

“Solo could be of more use to us than we thought. He could be a powerful ally! I know I—”

“You weak-minded fool!” Snoke hissed. He leaned forward in his throne and leered at her with narrowed eyes. “Although, I can see it now… you have a personal interest in him.”

“No! He’s nothing to me.”

“Yes, it all becomes clear. You find him desirable.”

“No!” Kira fought.

“The only way to remedy this problem is to excise him completely. He is a tumor, a _parasite_. You must end him. Only then can you truly embrace your potential. It seems as though this is a lesson you have trouble remembering.”

She struggled as she choked on unbidden panic.

“There will be no failure this time, Ren. Your weakness has put too much at risk. Fix it, or there will be consequences.”

“Yes, master,” she forced out.

“You are dismissed.” Snoke’s attention refocused on something behind her. “Admiral Hux, you may come in.”

As Kira rose and stormed out, she ignored Hux’s pale-faced sneer and tried not to listen as Snoke said, “Your timely completion of the new weapon is commendable, Admiral.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, many thanks to my beta, @colliderofhadron, for all of her hard work on this story.
> 
> And, many thanks to my readers. This story weighs on my mind and it has to be written. I'm sure other writers can sympathize :)
> 
> I warmly welcome any feedback.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had to increase the chapter count, seeing as there is still so much left to be told. There is the start of some longed-for resolution in this chapter, canon being what it is. Enjoy!

D’Qar’s base boasted no new technology, no grand architecture.

In fact, it reminded Ben more of the burrowed hole of a small animal than a functioning military establishment. Nestled in a grassy landscape of tall hills and deep valleys, the base was almost entirely situated underground, save for the pale tarmac landing strips cutting through the scrubby countryside. Inside, thick roots trailed down the walls and intertwined with the tangles of electrical wires and cables that supplied motherboards and holographic displays. Ben didn’t look too closely at the information the holos supplied - the less he got involved, the better.

It was only now that Ben realized just how much he had forgotten in the years spanning his absence. The way his mother smelled of floral-scented hair product and the expensive cigarras that were her not-so-secret vice, the way her arms felt as they embraced him, of feeling at home. Waves of memory had crashed down on him the moment he had seen her face, and he knew that he would need time alone to process the chaotic swirl of sentiment that churned inside him.

Han Solo’s abrupt appearance had done nothing to help his confused emotional state, and Ben was deeply grateful that his father had demonstrated a rare moment of tact to excuse himself from Ben’s presence for the time being. Ben knew there were words to be said between the two of them, and he was certain Han knew it, too, but there was only so much fleshing out of the past that Ben could handle at any one time.

Many things had changed while he had been away, and yet also nothing. In the middle of Ben’s crash-course tour of the facilities with Leia, she had been called away to deal with more pressing matters, leaving Ben, as he had been so often left in his childhood, to his own devices in an unfamiliar environment and in the company of a droid.

The sting of abandonment was not new to Ben, and time had done nothing to dull the blow. Exhaustion prickled his eyes, and weariness settled heavily on him, prompting an early return to his ship for much-needed rest.

Despite the fact that his safety was not currently at stake, Ben’s nap was short and fitful, his empty stomach rousing him with its furious protest. Rubbing his eyes, Ben tried to remember the last time he had eaten solid food, and could only think of the meal he had hastily consumed before the last podrace.

Vaguely recalling the location of the mess hall, Ben made his way there, but not before passing the hangar housing the _Millennium Falcon_. Overcome with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, he was drawn to the open ramp and stepped quietly up into the main hold of the ship. A metallic _clink_ issued from somewhere around the corner, followed by a _thunk,_ then a loud _clatter_ from below.

“Gah! Dammit Chewie, watch where you put the tools!”

Chewie’s dismissive bellow sounded from somewhere near the cockpit as Han’s fingers appeared around the rim of the maintenance hole in the floor. His first attempt to jump out didn’t have enough momentum, and he slipped back down with a muffled expletive. The second was preceded by a determined huff, and was ultimately successful. The moment Han ungracefully cleared the lip of the hole, he spotted Ben standing at the top of the ramp.

“Ben!” Han greeted, wheezing slightly with exertion as he stiffly rose to his feet and dusted off his jacket. “Good to see you,” he puffed.  “Home, sweet home!” he joked, with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Ben shrugged, uncomfortable, but not ready to leave. The powerful pull of childhood memories rooted him to the ship, even to suffer difficult conversation with his father.

“So… what’ve you been up to all this time?” Han prompted awkwardly.

Adolescent aversion to simple back-and-forth dialogue with his father bubbled up inside him, but Leia’s words broke through: _Give us a chance_.

“Racing,” Ben forced himself to say. “On Tatooine.”

“Podracing? No kidding.” Han sounded truly impressed. “Were you any good?”

“Yeah, I was good,” Ben conceded, allowing himself a small smile of pride.

“Good money in that, if you know how to play your cards right.”

Something deep inside Ben revolted at the notion that he had in any way followed his father’s footsteps. How had he not realized this before, when he had been inadvertently edging deeper into the world of cheats and gangsters for years, his every choice dragging him further down?

Han read the brewing storm with uncanny precision, and held up his hands in quick surrender.

“That’s not how I wanted to start,” he pleaded. Pausing as he struggled to find his next words, he glanced at Chewie, who had quietly begun to work on electrical wiring close by, and sighed before continuing. “I’m glad you’re here. Your mother… well, we missed you.”

Chewie growled a warning.

“ _I_ missed you,” Han corrected, sheepishly running a grease-stained hand through his gray hair. “And look, I know I was a shit parent, but I want to make up for it. Maybe we could catch up sometime?”

Hesitantly, Ben nodded, but even as the word “sure” left his mouth, his thoughts remained skeptical.

Ben’s eye suddenly caught a bright glint of gold, shining from the cockpit’s window as the evening’s fading sunlight streamed in, illuminating a familiar pair of golden dice.

“You still have these?” he asked as he strode over and touched them, entranced by the reminder of the long-forgotten but much-loved childhood toy.

Han followed him in. “Permanent fixture,” he said, cracking his lopsided grin.

“I thought I lost them when I left to go to Uncle Luke,” Ben said wistfully, brushing his calloused thumb over one of the cube’s indentations.

“I figured you’d try to take them, so before you left I stole them back from your bag.” The smile slid from Han’s face as he sensed Ben’s frustration mounting again.

Ben vividly recalled the sharp distress he had experienced years ago, on discovering that the dice were missing. He had been able to bring so little from home, and pain had sliced through him at the realization that this one small token was now lost. Fear of Han’s reaction to its disappearance had kept him silent - he had been fully aware that the dice were his father’s keepsakes, and not his.

Han took a careful step closer. “I just wanted to keep something that reminded me of you, kid. I didn’t have anything else.”

Ben’s jaw worked as he swallowed down all the old resentment. After a prolonged silence, he finally asked, “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Han replied.

***

Leia’s son had _terrible_ timing.

A mere hour after Ben had walked back into her life, she had received the unwelcome news that the First Order’s deadly weapon on their Starkiller Base had reached completion much sooner than anticipated, and that meant plans for its destruction had to jump light years ahead of schedule as well. Leia’s meticulously cultivated espionage circuit had discovered and disclosed details of its construction and, since then, the enemy base had been a priority target for the Resistance. If the name of the thing was any indication, the sooner it was annihilated, the better for the galaxy’s safety. The First Order thrived on fear and retaliation, and Leia knew it wouldn’t be long before the unprecedented power of Starkiller Base would be unleashed.

When he had arrived, Ben had unwittingly stepped into a veritable hornet’s nest of aggressive activity and, while it cut her deeply that her attention once again was pulled from him, the fate of the New Republic was at stake.

How could she be a good mother and a good general at the same time?

Desperation drove her to seek him early the next morning, before the meeting that would decide the Resistance’s course of action against Starkiller. She knew he had refused his own quarters within the base, and supposed correctly that he had spent the night on board the ship that had brought him to D’Qar. White-gold light spilled through the hangar as the durasteel boarding ramp rattled under her steps, carrying her into the small vessel’s cramped space. She tarried in the short hallway, frowning at the age-yellowed walls of the curved corridor and the worn floorboards beneath her feet. This was the vessel that had traitorously carried Ben far out of her reach in more ways than one, and couldn’t help but feel a twinge of resentment for it.

Her son was awake, tinkering with scraps of metal at a small retractable plastic table, eyebrows lifting at her appearance. She let her eyes roam, taking in the ship’s sparse practicality.

“I heard you didn’t want quarters of your own here,” she started tentatively. She was beating around the bush, she knew, but conversing with Ben was a rusty skill.

Guilt played on his features, his face plainly saying, _I don’t plan on being here long_ , without speaking the words aloud.

Leia’s careworn hope sat heavy on her soul. “May I sit?”

He nodded, and she settled herself across from him. Her sigh held the weight of the world, drawn from the depths of her lungs and the well of her burden. “How can I convince you to stay?”

He stopped fiddling with the scrap metal to give thought to his response; so careful with his words, just as he had been as a boy.

“You can’t,” he finally decided.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m happy you’re here, but you just have the worst timing,” she said, echoing her thoughts from earlier and rubbing her temple.

“It’s never the right time for me to be around, is it?”

Bitterness had crept into his tone, and her apprehension rose accordingly.

“I want to start over, Ben. Can’t we do that? Together?”

His churlishness flared into anger. “You want me to just forget everything that happened? All the years you never gave a damn—”

“No, Ben! That’s not how it was, and you know it,” she persisted.

“No? Then how was it?” he demanded. “How was it, going off and being an important senator, and dad jumping around the galaxy doing who knows what, while I sat at home with a _droid_ for my only friend for _years_ —”

“If you think I don’t regret every second of that—”

His fury unfurling, Ben jumped to his feet, towering over her in the small space. “Regret? You lied to me, sent me away—!”

“We shouldn’t have done that, I know that now. We missed you, Ben, so much it drove your father and I apart!”

“So _that’s_ my fault, too, then? Your shitty marriage falling apart because I left this joke of a family behind!” His words cut her, just like they always had. “And now, you want me to stay after all this time, because you want an extra set of hands on deck. Because you finally need me. It’s—”

He stopped abruptly, his eyes unfocusing, confused, then pained. Leia watched, uncertain.

He drew in a shaky breath. “What was that?”

A faint “General Leia!” was heard in the distance, a breathless cry. “General!” The ship’s ramp rattled noisily with quick footsteps. Into the vessel burst Poe, dishevelled and out of breath.

“General, Starkiller Base fired on the Hosnian System! The entire Republic was destroyed, the Senate, everything. We’re too late!” he gasped out.

The wrinkled face of Grand Moff Tarkin flashed before her mind’s eye, the terrible memory intrusive. Her strangled, “No!”, Vader’s vice-like grip on her shoulder prohibiting escape, her tears as she lay in that small black cell aboard the Death Star. Her family, her home, gone in a violent, gut-wrenching moment.

She spared one glance at her son, who had certainly just viscerally felt the deaths of millions, the glitter of unshed tears in his bewildered eyes.

“The briefing. Alert everyone. Now,” she commanded Poe.

“The First Order did this?” Ben murmured, reeling.

“Come with me,” she said softly. “We have work to do.”

***

The briefing passed Ben by in a blur.

_…another Death Star, and our system is the next target…_

_…already charging the weapon…_

_…some kind of thermal oscillator…_

_…destabilize the core…_

_…defensive shields that our ships cannot penetrate…_

_…anything travelling slower than light speed…_

“I’ll do it.” Han’s voice cut through the aftershocks of violence ringing in Ben’s head. “But I’ll need a copilot.”

Chewie admonished him, punching Han half-heartedly in the shoulder.

“You know I still can’t speak for you, pal,” Han said quietly, but Chewie growled reassuringly. Ben watched as Leia’s face passed into a troubled, but quiet, acceptance.

Ben felt the constriction of a tight rope winding its way around his heart as he silently listened to his mother’s perfunctory briefing to all present, the cut and dry appraisal of preceding events and detailed plans as they continued to unfold. Words flew, bouncing against his consciousness, but he couldn’t shake the scream, the gaping wound in the Force left behind by the millions who saw their bright death pummeling toward them, and then...no more. The fear, the agony… the rope in his chest coiled tighter, his heart squeezing out its painful rhythm against the cords.

And Ben knew what he had to do.

His head sprang up, finally at attention, to see that the large meeting room was now empty, except for himself and a slowly revolving holographic image of Starkiller Base. Dashing out to the hall, he ran to the _Falcon_ , his mind’s eye already seeing his father and Chewie readying it for flight.

The hangar was frantic, seething with people shouting and scrambling to buckle up into X-wings. Engines roared to life, while some ships already lifted off, shooting into the stratosphere. The _Falcon_ was still there, everything just as Ben imagined it would be, with Han in the cockpit punching in algorithms and Chewie running diagnostics, both too absorbed in their respective tasks to notice him as he walked up behind them.

“I’m coming with you,” he said quietly. Han startled.

“Kriff, kid, you almost gave me a heart attack! I’m getting too old not to take that seriously.”

“You’ll need back-up. You two can focus on the mission, and I can keep watch. And _don’t_ ,” he continued, sensing Han’s forthcoming objection, “don’t tell me you can handle it by yourselves.”

Han sighed. “Your mother’s not going to like this.”

“She doesn’t like any of this. She’s just doing what she has to do,” Ben replied.

A nod of understanding passed between them, but worry still hung heavy in the air. Ben ignored it— there was no way in the galaxy he could live with himself if he didn’t do something to avenge the evil he had felt jarringly grate against his soul less than an hour ago. Besides that, he was certain of only one thing more: if it was the First Order they were up against, Kira Ren was bound to be close by, and there wasn’t a bowcaster in existence big enough or strong enough to stand up against her.

“Well, you better buckle up, kid. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

***

Five bright streams of red light pierced the velvet black of space, their devastating scarlet brilliance searing through the transparisteel pane hiding Kira Ren’s face. Their trails still burned in the back of her eyes as five living planets died in a shattering that tore through her body and left her breathless.

There was no satisfaction for her in their suffering.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is more than welcome. Comments always brighten a writer's day. 
> 
> Another special shoutout to my beta, @colliderofhadron, for taking the rough stone of my work and polishing it so that it sparkles.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our fearless heroes infiltrate Starkiller Base, and come face to face with the one adversary they were desperately hoping to avoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter yet, but I couldn't see a good way to break it up. Too much action! It's also the last installment of Part One of this series, and Part Two is completely outlined and ready to be written. I'm excited about Part Two, I can't wait to share it!

Ben gripped his seat with white knuckles as the  _ Falcon _ backpedaled out of hyperspace; fading daylight burst through the battered transparisteel panels, making them wince, as they plunged headlong into the atmosphere of Starkiller Base.

There was only the briefest glimpse of the dense forest before the freighter brutally slammed into its treeline, crashing through the yielding pines and sending snow flying in its wake as it raked its destructive path through the trees. The  _ Falcon _ shot out of the forest and made rough contact with rocky earth, inelegantly skidding along the hard, snow-dusted tundra until it met the precipitous edge of a cliff.

Han and Chewie bickered as if nothing unusual had taken place, casually unstrapping themselves from their seats and setting about gathering the supplies for the mission ahead, while Ben took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart before unbuckling and standing. Chewie grabbed a large canvas bag loaded with explosives, but Ben opted to bring only his lightsaber for its lightweight protection. The bulk of his focus was trained on shielding his mind from detection—if the peculiar connection still remained between Kira Ren and himself, any failure to exercise extreme caution would certainly alert her to his presence. Not only would that jeopardize the mission, but also his life, and the lives of his father and friend.

The  _ Falcon _ ’s ramp crunched into the snow as it lowered and, as they stepped foot on the cold ground, the aim of their objective was plainly visible despite the dimming light. The imposing dark mound of metal looming in front of them was in the process of siphoning the energy of the closest star, insidiously consuming its waning radiance. The darkening sky had already begun to resemble gloomy evening, cheated of any of the natural beauty of a true sunset.

Every passing second brought the weapon closer to full charge. They realized that their time was running short, and each felt the urgency in his bones.

“As long as there’s still light, we got a chance,” Han said, voicing Ben’s thoughts. “Let’s move.”

They endured the long, bitter walk to the entrance of the base, a brutal wind whipping across the wide plain as they trekked. Fallen snow whirled up around them, obscuring their vision, the eddying specters entreating them:  _ turn around, go back _ . Onward they trudged, and Ben flinched as the wind’s icy breath stung his exposed face and hands, but he said nothing. Discomfort wasn’t a stranger to him.

The metal hulk rose up before them, almost mountainous in height, and the three huddled beneath the lip of the first entrance they encountered.

Han’s shaking fingers ripped open the panel that housed the entrance’s wiring, and with a pleading glance at the sky, he began to fiddle awkwardly with the tiny cables inside the electrical box, his frozen hands uncooperative. Chewie growled impatiently at him, his tone a warning.

“It does too always work,” Han grumbled back, as a spark fired between the two wires he held in his hands. The enormous door swished open, and Han breathed a sigh of relief, a puff of vapor from his lips escaping into the frigid air. “See?”

They tentatively crossed the threshold and, once inside, Han began rehashing plans.

“First, we got to disable the shield. Let’s—”

“ _ ALL PERSONNEL TO BATTLE STATIONS. ALL PERSONNEL TO BATTLE STATIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. REPEAT: THIS IS NOT A DRILL _ .”

“Shit,” Han breathed, brows furrowing as he glanced around him. “We need to get moving. Where’s the map?” Chewie quickly rifled through his bag and handed Han a small holo projector which, on activating, showed only a rough, undetailed diagram of the thermal oscillator itself. Han rubbed his face in frustration. “This is all we have?”

Chewie could only shrug.

“Well, let’s get going.”

***

Kira Ren’s sulking figure stood motionless, silhouetted against a large window overlooking a brightly-lit hangar, and Admiral Hux couldn’t resist the temptation to approach her. The chance to gloat about his accomplishment was just too enticing to let slip by. But, as he altered his original course of travel to head toward her, the gravelly voice sounded through the black mask.

“Hux.”

Several old annoyances sprang up within him at once, the first being her infuriating ability to know when he was near, whether he announced himself or not. Hux played every conversation as a game of brinkmanship, and her anticipation of his presence gave her the initial upper hand. He could only meet this with a great sense of begrudging—Hux  _ always _ had the upper hand.

Ren had never been a real threat to him— more than anything else, he regarded her with a distant contempt tempered by a light dose of suspicion. In his mind, she was the Supreme Leader’s problem and, even though he was fully aware of the reports of her ‘power’, she was ultimately just one of Snoke’s goons.

The second annoyance was that  _ damnable _ mask, obscuring whatever humanity Ren might have left after selling her soul to the Supreme Leader’s personal service. Hux relished feeding off the fear that danced in people’s eyes when he confronted them, and the emotionless glass that separated Ren from the rest of the galaxy adamantly forbade him that pleasure.

Still, Hux continued in his trajectory, unwilling to let her strange mannerisms preclude him from his well-deserved bragging rights.

“What a momentous day for the First Order!” he crowed. “That cancerous tumor of the Republic has been finally purged from the galaxy, and the pathetic remainder of the Resistance is close behind. The Supreme Leader’s glorious vision is so  _ close _ to fruition.”

She remained still, silent. Another annoyance— she never retaliated. It was unnerving.

“Perhaps you’d like to join me on the main deck to witness our enemies being crushed beneath our feet.”

“You clearly seek congratulations, Admiral,” she said, her tone cutting. “I’m sure your men will provide you with that, once your task is complete.”

Frustration rose in his throat, but before he could respond, he noticed her flinch slightly. He watched her with curiosity as she stilled, the visible rising and falling of her slim shoulders betraying her inner disquiet.

“He’s here,” she murmured.

“What? Who?”

At his questioning, she rounded on him, her body tense. “This base has been infiltrated. I suggest you activate your chain of command immediately.” She began to stride purposefully away, but Hux caught her arm.

Wrenching out of his grasp, she threw her hand out and an invisible pressure closed Hux’s airway. He grappled at his throat, a swell of panic rising up from the pit of his belly and blackening the edges of his vision as he struggled for air.

“Don’t  _ ever _ touch me again, you  _ spineless worm _ ,” Ren spat at him, that infamous rage leaking from her every pore as she released him. He collapsed against the window pane, desperately gasping for breath. Thick anger clouded his thoughts as he watched her stalk down the hall through watering eyes.

_ Witch _ .

***

“It’s supposed to be right here!” Han complained, gesturing pointedly at the vague holo schematics.

“Well, it’s not.” Ben raised his voice to be heard over Chewie’s rumbles of irritation, his own patience slipping. “The map is wrong. We need to move on.”

Chewie grumbled a suggestion.

“How are we going to do that? We can’t hack the mainframe without the entire base knowing we’re here,” Han replied in frustration.

“Hey! You!”

The three whipped around in unison toward the shout echoing along the corridor, their hearts collectively dropping into their stomachs. A stormtrooper had just rounded the corner, and Chewie instinctively let loose a shot from his bowcaster as they scrambled away. The trooper dodged it with either masterful agility or pure dumb luck, and sparks flew as the blast struck the metal wall.

“Wait!” they heard from behind, and they exchanged glances as they slowed their frantic pace. “Wait!” they heard again, and their escape ground to a confused stop.

The trooper slid into view, his blaster held loosely at his waist, aimed at the floor.

“Who the hell are you?” Han demanded.

“Are you with the Resistance?” the trooper asked, slightly out of breath.

“Are  _ you _ ?” Han shot back.

To their shock, the trooper removed his helmet to reveal a man whose eyes were wide and forehead beaded with the sweat of adrenaline.

“I’m FN-2187. I want to help.”

The three glanced incredulously at each other for a heartbeat, but Han recovered the quickest, and wasted no time in getting straight down to business. “Do you know where the shield control room is?”

“Yeah, it’s this way,” FN-2187 pointed with his thumb behind him.

Han shrugged and began to walk in that direction.

Ben jumped to stop him. “We’re just going to trust this guy?” he hissed in an exasperated whisper.

“Do you have a better plan?” Han responded quickly.

Ben admittedly did not, so Han continued walking.

“All right, kid, let’s go.”

They stole through the hallways, peeking around corners and blindly following their guide until he stopped them in front of a large, important-looking door.

“So, what’s the plan, guys?” the trooper asked in an excited undertone as he punched in the code to the door.

“Listen, right now you just follow my lead,” Han said, wary.

“Okay, because I can get us inside but I can’t access the shield itself.”

Ben made no attempt to hide his disbelief as he rolled his eyes.

“What exactly do you do around here?” Han questioned, his ire every bit as evident as Ben’s.

“I’m with sanitation.”

“You’re a  _ janitor _ ?!” Han’s eyes widened with accusation as the heavy door flew open to reveal three more armed troopers, but Chewie and Ben were ready. They made short work of their deadly task, saturating the air of the confined space with the saber singing and the percussive reports of the lethal bowcaster.

“I know where stuff is, I can help!” FN-2187 replied, his loud protests barely audible over the clamor.

“This is not how I thought today was going to go,” Han growled miserably as he strode impatiently into the room, stepping over the fallen hostiles now littering the floor.

Ben and Chewie had cornered what appeared to be a higher-ranking officer, the bowcaster aiming directly at the shiny chrome plate that protected the captive’s heart, Ben’s saber leveled at her neck.

“She can access the shield,” FN-2187 said, nodding toward the officer. His features took on a pained grimace as he acknowledged his superior. “Captain.”

“FN-2187,” the captain intoned icily. “I should have known.”

“Now that we’ve all been introduced,” Han said, his voice heavy with sarcasm, “let’s get this shield down. We’re running out of time.”

With weapons still hovering threateningly over her, the captain had no choice but to do as they demanded, and after reluctantly deactivating the shield with as much ill grace as she could muster, she was summarily bound and locked in a storage closet. The group commenced their stealthy return to the oscillator in order to perform the next step of their plan. They strategically placed their bombs throughout the huge structure, a task that took far longer than they initially anticipated, then crept back to the place of their initial entrance. The corridors were eerily silent except for the occasional clacking of boots on the polished flooring and the distant rumbles now vibrating beneath their feet.

Chewie clutched the detonator in his hand, ready to activate it once they cleared the base’s surface. They almost fell out of the doorway into the icy air in their haste to leave and, as the door slid shut behind them, their eyes were immediately drawn upwards by the high speed dogfight waging in the overcast skies above them—presumably the reason for the quaking rumbles that had been shaking the floors inside.

The wide plain was every bit as bitter as before, if not even colder with the further loss of light as the nearby star was drained, and their journey back to the  _ Falcon _ was equally as miserable. After laboring across the seemingly endless expanse of snow, they eventually reached the forest and hadn’t gotten far past the treeline when Ben halted. The skin on the back of his neck prickled as he sensed that crisp linking of minds that he hadn’t felt since rocketing out of Tatooine’s atmosphere. The mental barriers he had erected now acted only as a half-built dam, unable to hold back the current of the bond as it gushed between them. Their proximity was completely overwhelming his defenses.

“She’s here,” he whispered, fear coloring his words as they released into the cold air.

“Who?” asked the trooper, half-turning around.

“Kira Ren.” Her fury boiled, his companions in its crosshairs. “You need to go.  _ Now _ ,” Ben urged.

“How do you know that?” FN-2187 asked, brows furrowed in suspicion.

Their exchange was cut short by the buzz of a lightsaber igniting behind them, and they turned to see its red glow casting its burning energy on the dark form wielding it, throwing it into ghastly relief.

“I knew you were here, Ben Solo,” the figure spoke, its distorted voice weighted with purpose. The last beams of the star’s dying light wove weakly through the naked trees, dimly reflecting off the gleaming mask of the challenger. A light snow began to fall, the tranquil serenity it brought at odds with the thick tension gathering in the looming darkness.

An unexpected volley of blaster fire shot at Kira, who deftly whirled her saber and easily deflected every blast. Ben rounded on the newly defected stormtrooper, whose burnished white armor blended congruously with the wintry landscape.

“Stop! That won’t do anything,” Ben said, waving his hand at the man, as if swatting his weapon away.

“ _ Traitor! _ ” Kira roared across the snow, bending slightly at the waist to lend more power to her howl. The angry scarlet saber hissed as its tip vaporized the snow it grazed, her murderous intent written on every tensed muscle.

“Go,” Ben commanded the group. “I’ll hold her off.”

“No, Ben,” Han interjected. “We can’t leave you here.” Chewie voiced his agreement.

“It’s me she wants. I’ll catch up.”

“If your mother—!”

“Just go!” Ben barked, waving them away. He risked a quick glance at his father and softened his tone at the concern etched in the old man’s face. “I’ll be fine.”

He stood his ground as Han, Chewie, and the trooper hesitantly backed toward the trees, their outlines quickly swallowed by the snow swirling in their wake, but Ben’s attention was focused on Kira’s poised form as they circled each other, staring, waiting.

“There’s no escape for you this time,” she growled through her mask.

Ben ignited his grandfather’s saber and slowly raised it, the bright blue light casting unnatural shadows between the trees. The snow continued to fall lightly, adding to the surreality of the scene. The only sound was of their breathing, hers grating through the mask’s modulator, his made visible as huffs of gray condensation in the frigid air. Kira took his movement as an invitation to begin battle and rushed him, reaching him in seconds. She came at Ben hard, swinging and screaming wildly, and their weapons met in clashing and spitting arcs of light.

Her ferocity matched every ounce of his strength as they surged through their savage dance, striking and parrying with the primal rhythm of battle. It wasn’t long before she had Ben on the defensive. He wasn’t surprised by her power-- he had experienced it before-- but he was astonished at her single-minded determination, the merciless drive that fueled her. Blow after blow, she gave him no ground, allowed no purchase, as sparks flew around them.

With another ferocious lunge, Kira jabbed at his left shoulder, piercing white hot heat through his skin. He cried out and fell back, only to find himself cornered against a tree. Kira permitted not even a second of recovery, and Ben was forced to swing his blade up to meet her mighty downward blow, the scorching heat of the red and blue blazing only inches from his face.

They struggled against each other, Kira’s indomitable strength forcibly reminding Ben of her reckless push into his mind. The momentary stalemate gave Ben just enough time to tap into the open flow between them, the intimacy of it at once frightening and exhilarating. He almost gasped at what he felt rolling off of her in waves.

Misery.

His gaze flew to the mask that separated them.

“Kira, you don’t have to do this,” he managed to grunt with effort, his muscles straining under her.

Shock coursed vicariously through him, her gradual forward momentum arrested. Her ragged breathing slowed. Ben pushed her off almost gently, and she offered no resistance, her weapon still ignited but falling to her side.

“You don’t want to kill me,” Ben said softly.

Her shoulders were still heaving with exertion, but her continued silence encouraged him. He reached out over the link and was met with conflict. Indecision and fear twisted torturously in her gut, an anxiety that grew painfully as the moments stretched. He felt the primal scream rise up inside her even as it tore out of her throat.

She rushed him again, but this time he knew it was coming. Seeing his chance, in the opening of the wild swing that would have cleaved him in two, he swung up and caught her, from the right shoulder and up across her face. Agony ripped through her as she stumbled to the ground, falling hard. Her helmet, which had received the brunt of the blow, landed and skid, smoking and hissing along the icy ground several feet away.

His chest tight, he looked at the woman now lying before him, her black clothing starkly contrasting with the crisp white snow on the ground. The burn of her cauterized flesh seared, but she lay motionless except for the unsteady rise and fall of her chest. Trepidation weighing down every step, Ben crept just a little closer and caught a glimpse of her face.

Their eyes met for the first time in the darkness. His breath caught when he saw the naked fear in her eyes, a silent plea for… for what, he didn’t know. Mercy? A quick end? Extinguishing the humming lightsaber in his hand, he warily edged forward, as though approaching a wounded animal. Kira’s eyes closed as she groaned with pain.

Now close enough to touch, Ben slowly knelt beside her, his heart stuttering. He saw the faint splatter of freckles dancing across her nose and, when their gazes met again he saw, even in the dimness of the forest, the small flakes of snow melting delicately on her eyelashes. Even with the raw gash he had opened on her face, he saw her fresh, feminine beauty and couldn’t tear his eyes away.

And, she let him look.

Her breathing steadied as they engaged in the wordless connection that bridged them. All the pretense of their circumstance fell away, the burgeoning truth of their togetherness dawning in their hearts. There was calm, peace. Belonging.

Beneath them, the earth trembled. Distracted, Ben realized that the bombs he, Han, and Chewie had planted were now detonating, and understood their immediate peril. He needed to escape this base  _ now _ , but his first thought was of Kira—how to help her escape as well.

Turning his attention back to her, he leaned over to scoop her up in his arms, but stilled when he saw that her brows had drawn together. Ben sensed a sharp dive from the breathless hush they had shared into a dark desperation, and an invisible battering ram caught him harshly in the chest as Kira violently threw him away from her with the Force. The earth cleaved in two with a violent shattering  _ crack _ , the mouth of a dark void opening up between them.

Ben scrambled for purchase, the wind knocked out of him, wasting only a second for one final glimpse of the wounded girl in the snow before running as fast as his legs could carry him toward the  _ Falcon _ .

Chewie was waiting at the ramp, bellowing at him to  _ hurry _ before yelling up into the cockpit to announce Ben’s arrival. The ship lifted off before Ben had even placed his second foot on solid grating, launching off the surface and shuttling into the wide, dark sky.

“Good to see you, kid. Let’s get the hell out of here,” Han said as he finalized the route for hyperspace.

Chewie mussed up Ben’s hair as he sat down behind them and next to the dazed trooper, only able to give Chewie a half-hearted grin.

The  _ Falcon _ slipped into hyperspace as Han pushed the lever forward, but not before they all saw Starkiller Base erupting in a rage of red fire, molten rock exploding out in an intolerably bright burst of energy—the birth of a new star.

As streaks of starlight streamed around them, Ben’s adrenaline rush faded. In its absence, the image of the fallen body, cloaked in black, supine on a bed of white snow pushed itself into his mind’s eye. The memory was irrepressible, and he was at a loss to even put a name to the confusing churn of emotion inside him.

His thoughts were jumbled, and an obstinate exhaustion settled thickly on him, forcing his eyes to close, falling into a shallow, troubled sleep.

***

The celebration was tempered with grief.

Ben had no desire to participate and, instead, he waited until his mother was at last alone in her office. He approached her, a weight on his chest.

Leia sighed in resignation when she saw his face. “You’re leaving.”

Ben nodded and forced himself to meet her eyes. “I have to go.”

“Can I ask where to?”

He hesitated, but ultimately surrendered. There was no reason to keep the truth from her. “The map you got from Jakku wasn’t complete. R2 woke up when I got back, and he had the rest of it.”

Leia’s eyebrows shot up, and then nodded, a knowing look crossing her features. “Will you be coming back?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured.

“Why now?”

Ben chewed on his thoughts. “There are questions I need answers to. He’ll have them.”

Leia stood up to embrace her son one more time. “Tell your uncle I say hello when you find him. Bring him home if you can.”

Ben departed without another word. It was time to see his teacher again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcome and appreciated. I would love to know what you think! 
> 
> Thanks for reading ^_^


End file.
